I'm just not content to have a plain existence. I want colour, I want vibrancy, no straight lines.
When will it be right? When will I figure out how to convey, how to say it? How to deliniate it perfectly in my mind? Will you understand it when I do?
Will this anxious feeling be forever?
I am a flying bird, a yellow one, arching higher in the last orange rays of the aching sun. I can feel the wind in my feathers, I close my eyes and feel the sensation of soaring, of freedom, the playground of light and beauty, the orange light caressing, brightening, making me alive.
I am a flying bird.
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